


House Arrest

by urusai_lilania



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Gay Sex, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Rivalry, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3354887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urusai_lilania/pseuds/urusai_lilania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New place, new town, same old grudge. Shizuo probably shouldn't be listening to any advice of Shinra's, but that's Izaya's problem, not his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House Arrest

**Author's Note:**

> Another oldie. I need fresh blood.

Izaya Orihara stood still, no longer so eager to go inside his apartment. The groceries he had run out to grab swung listlessly at his side, echoing an expired gait. Staring at what stood before his door, Izaya had to wonder if it was wise to go any further, or if he should just go find some place convenient to lay low for the night.

The very essence of violence had come to greet him, and the raven-haired male wasn’t sure if it was any better than seeing a reaper in its place. Because, for him, this being might very well one day be his death, and the last time he had seen the idiot, the police were taking him down—for something that Izaya himself had pinned on the guy. It might as well have been the crazed fool’s doing, right? Shizuo Heiwajima was never an agreeable man, and Izaya was damn certain that any unexpected house call would end badly on his part.

“Iii-za-ya-kun.”

Ah, too late.

Sighing and stepping forward, Izaya allowed his eyes to wander leisurely up the pathway towards his door and the uninvited guest standing before it. “Ah, Shizu-chan,” he lilted, the playfulness in his voice and smile never reaching his eyes. “I’m afraid I didn’t buy enough ingredients for two! You could call in advance if you’re so eager to see me, Shizu-chan. I could prepare more appropriately.”

The responding growl resonated from deep within the blonde man’s chest, his mouth open, his lips pulled back in a needy hunger that likely had nothing to do with the threat of having no meal. Izaya stopped in his tracks, no more than two yards between them now, appraising the other man. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Ookay. Shizu-chan seems a bit slower than normal,” Izaya muttered aloud, tilting his head and forcing his mouth to form a tense smile. “Why are you here?”

“Unlock the door.”

“Excuse me?”

“Unlock the door or I’m taking it down.”

~~~

“What are you doing?”

“Well one would normally assume ‘making dinner’, but let’s go out on a limb and say I’m cooking up Flunitrazepam.” Pausing, Izaya turned to quirk an eyebrow at his guest. Shizuo’s brow was furrowed. “Rohypnol…?” the raven-haired male tried again.

“Ah. Roofie,” the ex-bartender remarked, unconcerned.

Turning fully to look upon the abnormally subdued male, Izaya sighed. “You’re no fun, Shizu-chan.”

“Why would I want to have fun with you?”

Squirming about where he stood, Izaya pouted. “Ahh, come on, Shizu-chaaan. You don’t even try to stop me from making drugs in front of you?”

Red eyes watched as tensed arms rose, only to be folded across the owner’s chest tightly. “That’s your own issue. If I touch it you’d just say I did it. And I don’t remember there being eggs in that shit.”

“Haha… this is true,” Izaya admitted with an empty laugh, his eyes flicking back to the arms and chest once more before going back to his work.

Minutes passed in silence, and the longer time passed the more Shizuo became aware that the other man was tensed, waiting. Shinra had been right in insisting that Shizuo try to hold back his rage then; the longer the man refused to attack and punish the other for his transgressions, the more pathetic Izaya became. He either did it for his kicks or from boredom, but it was likely both. Shizuo was enjoying this sight, but he wasn’t sure if he liked it more than the feel of his fist connecting with the other man’s face—his blood still itched with the desire to tear the bastard apart. This testing of a less violent path was just that, a test. If the prick wasn’t going to be able to give a satisfying enough response, that was his fault, not Shizuo’s. Ah, well. In a moment he’d find out just how long either of them could hold out.

“Did you break into my house last night, louse?”

“Beg your pardon?” Izaya immediately returned, his head jerking around to eye the other man. Shizuo was standing right behind him again; his hot breath had blasted across Izaya’s slender neck and caught him off-guard. It was a kitchen, so it wasn’t like Izaya was at a disadvantage for weapons but… he had just gotten this apartment. It was a nice apartment. Far be it for him to be attached to anything, but he was still a bit weary from the events of late.  _Some_  evils enjoyed getting their sleep, he’d read in one book or another.

Shizuo still hadn’t moved from his spot, his accusatory frown tainted with all sorts of trouble—something was bothering the man. It’d have to be, wouldn’t it, for him to try and  _talk_  to Izaya about whatever it was, instead of simply taking it out on the man’s body. “Well?” Izaya commented, cautiously letting his eyes stray from his agitated guest as he returned to fixing the ingredients.

“I know it was you!” Shizuo finally continued, grumbling darkly.

Lightly flicking his wrist about with the chopping knife, Izaya commented, “Impossible, I was busy. What was wrong with your apartment?” He was tempted to ask if the man had reported the incident, but refrained. That phrase would likely invoke a bad reaction.

“Nothing…” Izaya raised an eyebrow at this but waited silently. It was all he could do not to turn around and strike out at the damn blonde… Why the hell was he here? Shizuo ground his teeth audibly for a second, lost in thought. “But I saw your smug ass face! And when I got up you were gone!”

“Ah.” Well.  _That_  was something curious. Izaya finished setting everything to cook before turning around to face the other man, gripping the counter behind him. “Shizu-chan must have been dreaming, is all. How cute.” His teeth were exposed, framed by a twisted smirk. It was taking all the effort in the world not to attack the other man; Izaya didn’t have enough will currently to bother keeping himself from  _egging_  the other as well.

The hand came up as expected, clenching itself as best it could in the material of Izaya’s shirt. Shizuo tugged the other man up off his feet and within an inch of his face, waves of electric heat and rage pouring forth with every aggravated breath. “Izaya-kun has found a way to infect my fucking dreams then, this is what you’re saying?” he demanded, shaking the man. The itching in his blood seemed to find this far more agreeable.

That tight-lipped grin of mania spread across Izaya’s face until it seemed his head had finally cracked in half. “Yep, pre- _cise_ -ly! Simon’s always been right on the mark with it. Heh.”

“Smug little prick—” Shizuo’s muscles began to lurch, in a manner that Izaya knew all too well now—he was about to be heaved, and as it was he’d either be smashed into the floor or slammed with brute force into a wall that was a mere two feet away. Oh, or the fool could get creative and slam Izaya headfirst into the pot and stew him…

Izaya brought his hands up to grip at the offending balled fist in his shirt. “Did you come here for any reason in particular?” One more bit for good measure… Sneering, Izaya leaned forward and rested his forehead against Shizuo’s, staring hard into those eyes as he added, “Or did you need me to tuck you in and sing a lullaby, to help rest your troubled head?”

There was that twitch, the crazed beast appearing in Shizuo’s eyes—Izaya got a thrill out of seeing the reaction flare in the man from afar normally, but from  _this close_ … His eyes grew wide and he bared his teeth in excitement as the blonde took his occupied fist and spun on his heels, wheeling the man over his head and smashing him down hard over the sink.

Izaya scrabbled with his hands, digging beneath him despite the pain in his shoulders from the faucet. Shizuo eyed the male through a red haze, only barely registering that his face felt as though it were about to shatter with how wide his mouth was set, how he gritted his teeth. What he did register was the long knife that Izaya withdrew from beneath his body, brandishing it like a paintbrush. He smacked  _that_  thing away with the flat of his hand, paying no attention to where it landed.

The crimson-eyed male blinked, grinning up at the blonde as the man grabbed him by his throat with one hand and a leg by the other, tugging the lithe body across the counter as it kicked and squirmed before shifting and changing his grip from the leg to the man’s skull, shoving him headfirst into the sink. Shizuo spun the water, watching as the faucet spewed in agitation upon the center of his rage. He could hear Izaya sputtering wildly, his feet kicking and slipping around uselessly on the countertop, knocking various things to the floor.

Shizuo watched in fascination as the rat practically drowned before him, his chest heaving in his excitement. He released his iron grip on the man’s skull and watched as the other’s slender hands suddenly flared to life, scrambling for a hold on anything at all. One gripped at the faucet and held it back as the other raced across the counter before landing on Shizuo’s chest, sliding up and feeling out to find the man’s clavicle. Shizuo tensed, his lips twitching as he moved to smack the doused man. Spidery fingers sprung to life, dancing their way to get as solid a grip as Izaya could manage in the instant left to him. He shoved off the counter, pulled up in the other direction, and he was up. Izaya twisted his body around, attaching himself to his attacker’s waist with his legs and scampering up onto the broad back before slamming Shizuo’s head with all his might into the sink.

“Haa… haa…” Izaya perched where he was tentatively. He wanted Shizuo to respond, to react, just as much as he had the urge to turn and run. Instead, he watched the water soak the blonde strands, sputtering from the manhandling his poor faucet had received. He wondered what it would be like if that much blood flowed through the man’s hair, a shiver coursing through him.

“Off.” Izaya swallowed one last heady gulp of air, kicking lightly to get the heel of his foot free of Shizuo’s pants pocket as he slid down the other man’s back and felt his feet connect with the floor once again. He glanced at the desecrated floor with mild annoyance. His kitchen had just been ransacked by a Neanderthal.

The blonde stood up straight and sighed, one huge blast of annoyance bursting free from his lungs as he shook his head. Izaya remained silent as the drops of water were flung about; instead he turned his back on the sight, eyeing the drips that fell from his bangs. They fell with ease, diving through the air in momentary freedom, only to die in a small splash within the pot.

“The food overcooked,” Izaya sighed, poking at it noncommittally.

Shizuo raised an eyebrow, staring with annoyance at the lithe individual. Izaya was regarding the pot with that damn air of his… that bored stare at a thing that was dried and used up, no longer useful. No longer wanted. The man’s fucking “hobby” had lost its taste. “Your cooking sucks anyway,” the blonde declared. “Just order your damn take-out like you always do,” he added, glancing indifferently over the other’s shoulder. “What the hell did you think you were doing, anyway?”

Scowling, Izaya picked up the pot with both hands, walked over to his waste bin—possibly the sole surviving object in the kitchen, as it was placed near the doorway – and released it where he stood. The still-full pot fell loudly to the bottom of the bin, a resounding thunk with several bits of food flying up like fireworks momentarily. “Haa… Maybe I was bored. Either way, I don’t want to cook anymore, it’s boring. Wonder if I can make Simon deliver…” He stared at the abandoned thing at his feet, a smile ghosting his lips.

“Che.” Even the damn pot. “Sushi’d be no good.”

“Whhaa?” Izaya demanded, spinning around to gawk at the other man. “But sushi is sushi! Fatty tuna!” His hand flew up and down at his side emphatically, but to Shizuo he was just being a child. The expression of pure disbelief on his face with his hair matted down with water wasn’t helping matters any.

“Simon has to work; he can’t just drop what he’s doing to come play your games. And it’d go old on the way.”

“Simon is good at packaging,” Izaya grumbled, pouting as he turned to glare stonily at the waste bin. The Russian would have to be; Izaya always enjoyed his meal even  _after_  being chased by the feral debt collector standing in his kitchen.

Inspecting his sunglasses and wiping them down before putting them away once more, Shizuo sighed. Children behaved better than this. “Still doesn’t change the fact that he ain’t dragging his ass all the way out here to feed you.”

“You’re one to talk, Shizu-chan.”

“Don’t. And I didn’t feed you, I only watched you ruin a useless attempt at feeding yourself. Again.”

“…Neh…” Izaya sighed, exasperated. He could feel his eye twitching. “Well who was it that came in here and bothered me with useless wet dreams when I was trying to be a grown up?”

“Grown up? When the hell did you ever grow up? And they weren’t fucking wet dreams, you sicko.”

A simple mocking twist of a smile surfaced as Izaya raise a finger in the air, wagging it. “Ah ah, I said  _trying_ , Shizu-chan, trying. You just have to let your inhibitions go with that sort of thing, otherwise it’ll only get worse.”

“The hell would you know?” the blonde growled, his fist shaking. Izaya only had a brief moment to dodge the coming blow, slipped and tripped over the waste bin, discarding its contents and stumbling backwards into the next room. Shizuo had sprung forward before Izaya could sidestep him, slamming him back over the desk and into his computer. Izaya hissed, trying to keep the other man off him while twisting around to see the state of his computer. Part of it had clattered loudly to the floor, another part felt crushed beneath his back… “You make me  _sick_.”

“Do I now?” Izaya’s eyes narrowed as he scowled up at his attacker. “So says the man who just can’t get enough,” he sang with a cluck of his tongue, deciding against gritting his teeth. “Or any at all, judging from all this tension and stress! Bad day at work, honey?”

Face-palm. Rather, Shizuo’s palm connected with Izaya’s face, his forehead in fact, with a resounding “thump” before he rammed the man’s skull back down onto the desktop. Ah, so it was the keyboard that was right there. The computer screamed something obscene at the pair until it crashed for one reason or another. It was quite probably traumatized. “Shut up.”

Instead of taking the tense growl for what it was worth as any sane person would be wont to do, Izaya chose to play. A pleased sound rumbled about in his chest as he reached forward and caught the hand attached to him, licking at the wrist. A deep shudder ran through Shizuo’s being as he tried to shove Izaya even further into the desk, almost succeeding—but then Izaya pawed around and decided to latch his fingers around Shizuo’s belt, tugging at it suggestively.

This was met with a swift lift off the table  _by the skull_  and an angry and confused glare from the blonde. “I’m sorry I ruined dinner, dear. Let’s make it up over sex!” he purred, leaning forward and pressing his lips against the startled man’s, his hand ignoring the belt and diving beneath the hem anyway.

Shizuo dropped his hold on Izaya as the raven-haired host also disengaged. The debt collector practically began emanating ticking noises, possibly from his teeth, or maybe he really was a time bomb after all. Izaya, now on his feet, smiled sickly and hopped up to sit on his desk, kicking his feet lightly. “Neh, you know, Shizu-chan, I like playing house with you. You like playing with me too, yeah?”

Sly. The fucking bastard had the smuggest air. Shizuo hated that, hated the way Izaya went about things. He could tell just by looking at the stupid man that this was how he did things, had no intention of stopping. It may have never occurred to him that Izaya hated his way too, but it wasn’t Shizuo’s place to care either. He was about to say something to the effect of “Fuck you”, but then he noticed that Izaya’s kicks had increased in swing, to the point that one of his shins repetitively swung up and nudged his crotch before lightly falling back. The idiot’s head was swaying back and forth as he hummed. _Hummed_. The louse was fucking humming. “Fuck you,” Shizuo spat.

“Ah, I’m considering it,” Izaya returned easily, his red eyes softening and his smile working its kinks out. Shizuo shuddered. It was that damn look Izaya used on so many people, tricking them into his web. He couldn’t remember if it had ever been directed at him before… and if it had, he probably hadn’t noticed.

“You look like a fucking woman when you do that.” It was all he could think to say as he stared down at the other man.

“Heh.” It wasn’t a laugh, but a verbal twitch. The expression stayed in place, though the red eyes had closed; probably didn’t want his eyes giving him away. “Guess that makes Shizu-chan the man of the house,” he added, nudging a shin against what was further proof.

Fine, if the bastard was going to play at this shit—he’d made Shizuo need it anyway. Izaya’d be bored of it soon enough; hell, hopefully he’d be bored of it halfway through – that’d be a fucking riot, the stinking louse losing at a game he started just because for the life of him he couldn’t learn to ride things out.

Reaching out to grip the back of Izaya’s neck with his fingers digging into the skin, Shizuo curled his lip. “Just stay the fuck outta my head, freakin’ louse.”

The kiss was rough, forceful, but Shizuo lost control of it for a moment as Izaya began licking at his lips, his hands somehow already at Shizuo’s hips, touching here and there and testing the belt.

And then the belt was gone. Growling, the blonde tightened his grip on the man’s neck, cranking it upward and snarling into Izaya’s mouth as he winced slightly. He hadn’t realized just how slender Izaya’s neck was until now; he could feel and press upon the jugular with ease from the back.

“Drop your pants, dipshit.”

No requests here, Izaya demanded this, after all. If there was any hesitation in the other man, Shizuo didn’t see it. Instead, he wrapped an arm around the man’s waist, ripped the damn girly shirt up over his head, and tossed him back against the desk so that he could see to himself. Laughing slightly, Izaya turned to assist the man; since Shizuo was so caught up undoing his damn vest, he went for the pants. He’d have gone for the pants anyway, of course, but still. Tilting his head and staring at the underwear, Izaya glanced up to the blonde. “Does your brother buy you these too?” he asked garishly, running a hand over them.

He tilted away from the knee that arched towards him and then went back to removing the underwear quietly. Shizuo wasn’t reacting senselessly, even when his brother had been mentioned. Either some supernatural force was guiding the brute, or he had checked out mentally. Something about these options left a bitter taste in Izaya’s mouth. His lips twisted with annoyance.

“Turn around.”

“You’ve always been such the romantic,” Izaya lilted with a wag of his hands, giving his back to the man.

Taking a page from Izaya’s smoldering book, Shizuo scoffed, fighting back the urge to just bash his head through the computer monitor. “Of course, look who keeps fucking crawling back.”

The thing about lack of preparation wasn’t so much that it makes the whole thing painful, but that it makes it so much more intimate in the truest since of the word—basically, it could really make you hate a guy, or, maybe, remember why you hate him. Izaya didn’t have time to consider this, only that it felt as though his head had been shoved through his computer’s monitor and that his legs had tried to give out.

Bracing himself and grimacing beyond the other man’s sight, Izaya fought to keep his balance. Shizuo was anything but nice, wasn’t he? Waltzes right on in, ruins his dinner, and then takes him up against his desk. No foreplay.

Ahh… well, unless you consider what Izaya was going to have to call “dinner” for now. That had worked him up pretty good, but he hadn’t considered that it would suffice in this arena, or that the other man would be the same. One arm wrapped around his hips, forcing each thrust to hit home harder than it would have otherwise while also technically allowing Izaya to fake his balance well enough; the other hand gripping the back of his neck.

And squeezing.

Izaya seemed to be losing more oxygen than he figured he should. Hell, his vision was all black and red and cloudy, too. _Fuck_.

Moaning softly only seemed to make the other man tighten his hold.

So he wasn’t allowed to get anything out of this at all, was that it? “Shi-zu… chan. So mean…” he managed to say. Then Shizuo started tugging and squeezing at Izaya’s neck in time to the whole thing, and nothing else  _could_  be said.

For a while the world was nothing more than one long oxygen-deprived smear. He could hear Shizuo’s heavy breathing coming from behind him, could make out the fingers pressuring his throat. He could feel a pain in his gut, but wasn’t sure if this was from going without dinner or just Shizuo spearing him too damn high.

And once it was over, he could feel the  _cold_. All his heat escaped his body in one massive sigh when Shizuo abandoned him. Shivers travelled up and down his body, screaming electric pain suddenly announced itself in his ass and stomach and— _fuck_ , the burning.

It felt like his sister had been playing with thumbtacks again.

Panting awkwardly, eyes wide, Izaya clutched at his neck with one hand, the other shaking as he braced his entire weight on the desk with it; his feet threatening to let him collapse any moment now that Shizuo was not there to support him. His breath came out in raspy winces, his throat threatening to betray him.

“What? Can’t spout any of your bullshit?”

Crimson eyes rolled skyward to look at the already redressed man standing there at his side; even at this angle with the fringe obscuring his view, Shizuo could see the blank open-mouth stare from his old classmate. Bent over his own trashed desk, unable to support his own weight, speak, or even muster up that fucking smirk.

The satisfaction he felt at having completely wiped Orihara Izaya from this man, even for a moment, and smeared it on the floor… that actually made this whole damned thing worthwhile.

After all, he had a feeling that this wasn’t going to help his dreams get any less annoying—and Izaya was probably going to recover within minutes. Shizuo figured it was best that he get going before the other man had the chance to take this moment from him—let him save that for another day.

When he left, Shizuo took a drink from fridge and left the front door wide open.

~~~

“Ah, sorry, I can’t talk long! I’ve got a patient with me currently,” the cheerful disembodied voice responded.

“ _Why_.”

“Eh? What is it, Izaya, I’m busy.”

“Tch… nevermind.”

The buzzing in his ear told him that Izaya had hung up on him; raising an eyebrow at his phone and shrugging, Shinra tossed it aside. If this was about his giving Shizuo Izaya’s address, he was more than happy to ignore any more hostile incoming calls.

Except from Celty, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back, bitches! ::cough:: Sorry. I'm back. I swear. Will be uploading something totally new in the next day or two!
> 
> Interested in checking out my original writing? You can find it [here](http://nikkitapierrottie.com/)!


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